


Lesson One

by VictorianDoubt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictorianDoubt/pseuds/VictorianDoubt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are trying to write your first smutty story but inspiration just does not come. Until Crowley shows up to help ... | "I think that I can give you some really important lessons concerning written porn.“<br/>„You read smut? Like, in your free time? When not reigning over hell?“ Ok, this is absurd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesson One

It’s late in the afternoon, one of those seemingly useless hours of the day in which it is either too early or too late to do anything at all. You are sitting at your desk and chewing on your pencil in a frustrated manner, and every once in a while you slowly turn around on your swivel chair. Frowning, you examine the walls around you, the high bookshelves, the tv, the window, but nothing seems to be even the slightest bit interesting, not to speak of ‘inspiring’.

Writing is hard. Especially when you are fulfilled with the overwhelming desire to _fucking write something, goddammit!_ but have no idea what. Well, maybe you could try- No. You laugh about yourself and shake your head. As if you’d ever be dare, or even be able, to write _that_!

You stare at the white sheet of paper on your desk – it’s only waiting for your first smut ever, but _how_?

„Need some inspiration, darling?“ Hearing that well-known voice sends an shiver through your body that is both frightened and…anticipating. You don’t dare to turn around yet so you just sit very still and pretend you hadn’t heard this voice. It’s the voice of somebody fictional, for fuck’s sake!  
Well, he’s very real in your imagination, but voices in your head have never been that loud and that close - and you never actually felt the breath of one of your day dream companions on your neck as you do now.  
Your are either becoming truly insane or there’s somebody in your room.  
'Somebody’, yeah. Crowley, King of Hell, sexy as fuck and _not real_.  
„You don’t exist.“ This simple statement is supposed to bring your mind back to reality, but you can’t stop your voice from being shaky.  
Either you are talking to yourself or-  
„Oh, if that’s what you want to believe, go on. I’ll just hang out with you a little – why would it bother you, after all, _I don’t exist_.“ You can feel that his arms are resting on the back of your chair now and while talking he is bending closer and closer to you, whispering into your ear, making fun of your helpless try to be realistic. Mocking you.  
You can’t help starting to breath more heavily now, but you won’t give in.  
„You are a character from a tv show and it’s definitely not possible for you to be in my room at this moment – or ever“, you state, folding your arms as if to protect yourself from that prickling feeling which arises everywhere inside you now, mostly – why not be honest to yourself? - in that area between your legs.

He’s giving your chair a little push now and you can hear that he starts to stroll around the room, still behind your back, out of your sight. „Like I said – if that’s what you prefer to think, I’m okay with it, but it won’t stop me from spending a little time with you. It should be quite easy to ignore somebody who doesn’t exist, anyway, shouldn’t it?“  
Oh, fuck. You’re kind of enraged and kind of turned on and he knows it. Provocative bastard.  
You swoosh your chair close to the desk again, lean over the still empty sheet and pretend to write, but you cover the random lines with your hand. Of course you can’t write now, it’s impossible even to form clear thoughts, but you must not show him how he’s taken over your mind and your every thought without even touching you.  
[Yet.]

„What are you writing?“ His question sounds innocent and polite but you can’t help but notice a slightly knowing undertone.  
Oh well. He’s just a voice inside your head, a trick your brain is playing on you – why shouldn’t you tell him? „Smut. That’s like a written porn movie.“ You explain and sigh. It sounds so crazy when you say it out loud and you can hear that non-existend person behind you chuckle.  
„You’re not getting along well, aren’t you? I saw you sitting there staring into the air for quite a while. Thought you might need some help.“  
„So, tell me what to write, then.“ The voice in your head might be a really talented smut writer, why not give it a try?  
„Oh no, that would be far to easy for you and far less enjoyable for me! But I think that I can give you some really important lessons concerning written porn.“  
„You read smut? Like, in your free time? When not reigning over hell?“ Ok, this is absurd.  
„Oh, I not only read… I also roleplay on tumblr. Leaving my poor pitiful fans sexually frustrated is quite pleasurable.“  
You never fully understood that tumblr comments saying 'the noise I made was not human’, but oh! how you do understand it now. Your little mixture between a shriek and a gasp seems to amuse him.  
„Adorable“, he murmurs, and that isn’t quite the reaction you hoped for, but actually you would take any kind of degrading words as long this voice is involved.

„Are you ready?“  
„Ready for what?“ You are confused and your hands are shaking.  
„For devil’s sake, you should really try to listen when I’m talking to you. Have you already forgotten that I want to teach you the art of written porn? I’m not too distracting, or am I?“  
He is so close to you again and this time he is even touching you and you are not longer able to pretend you’re talking to somebody inside your head. Those hands that are now pulling you up into a standing position are too real.  
„I asked you something – are you ready or not?“ His voice is sharper now, expecting and commanding; and before you really can think about it, you are nodding hastily.  
„Wonderful.“ He steps back a little, but only to push the chair aside and now there’s nothing between him and you anymore. Even though he’s not touching you it’s as if you could feel his physical presence and you are holding on to your desk because you are not sure if your legs are able to carry you anymore.

You were a person a few minutes ago, but now your just a metaphor for self-abandonment and lust.

„Now that everyone's ready, let’s start with lesson one.“  
In a matter of milliseconds he overcomes the distances between you and actually between his hands and your bare skin.  
Not only that he’s standing that close to you now that you are basically pressed against his warm body, he also kindly ignored the fact that a shirt is supposed to cover your body and his hands are slowly moving from your naked belly to the underline of your bra.  
„You now what the problem with all of you little smut writers is?“ His voice is as teasing as his fingers are.  
You are literally unable to can, and this is not just another lie of a tumblr tag. Your mouth is trying to form words but all you can produce is an embarrassing moan. Yeah, 'it would be easy to ignore him’, alright.

„The problem is…,“  
(his mouth is directly at your neck now and between every word he utters he gives you a little bite)  
„…that your are trying…“  
(his hands are cupping your breasts and you can feel his pressing desire through your bra, his thumbs are stroking your skin)  
„…to put something into words that actually leaves you speechless.“

Indeed it does. You, who really really believed to a have at least a little sense of dignity and self-control, are begging for more. You, who calls herself a writer, are not able to produce more than pathetic half-sentences, tiny exhales of „please“ and „yes“ and „oh god“.  
„You understand what I am trying to expain?“ His voice is so soft and dangerous and even this sentence seems too complicated to make sense of.

His grip suddenly hardens. „Do you see the point I am making?“, he repeats and you understand that he wants an answer, so

„yes, ohmygod, _please_ -“

and-

**Author's Note:**

> (I wrote this 2013, so I hope my English is better now. I might edit it language-wise when I find time. For now I hope my style isn't too distracting.)


End file.
